Feeling Special
by JamesLuver
Summary: John makes Anna feel special.


**A/N**: For **anna4bates**. Happy Birthday! Even if I am like one day late with it. At your end, at least. ;) You are a wonderful friend, and I'm so glad that you chose to message me that first time. Even if you "weren't entirely sure why you felt like PM-ing me." xD Thank goodness you can put up with (and match perfectly) my imaginings of slighty-less-clean scenarios. It's good that I can bounce ideas off you.

When asked,** a4b** did say that she'd like to see pregnancy sex. So, _voila_.

**Disclaimer:** Writing about it may be my life's work, but Downton Abbey does not belong to me.

* * *

_Feeling Special_

Humming quietly to herself, Anna moved around her tiny kitchen, setting out the places for her and John carefully, ducking down to check on the meat roasting in the oven. On the side, a large jam tart cooled. She had had a rotten craving for sweet things over the last couple of weeks. The warm scent of the dinner made Anna's stomach growl in protest. She wished that John would hurry up and return home.

Leaving early had been a thing unheard of until a couple of months ago. Sometimes it was frustrating, being ordered to rest like she was some kind of invalid, but other times she was grateful for it. Like tonight. Her shoes had been crippling her all day. It had been a relief to kick them off and pad around the kitchen in just her stockings.

The news that she was pregnant had shocked both her and John to the core. While they had never given up hoping that it would happen for them one day, when a year and a half had passed with no sign of anything ever being different, both had begun to wonder if there was some problem.

"_It's me,"_ John had said bitterly. _"I never had children with Vera. I'm so thankful for that, but the problem must lie with me. I'm sorry, Anna."_

"_Don't be silly,"_ she'd soothed, biting her lip. _"It's not your fault. It could be me. Let's not worry about it. We'll give it another year without worrying about it, and then we'll see."_

Thankfully, they hadn't needed to wait another year, because two months later, Anna had missed her cycle for the first time. She had held her breath and told herself to stay calm, that it could just be a false alarm, but she'd known in her heart. She was pregnant.

It had been confirmed a few days later by Dr. Clarkson, who had congratulated her with warm eyes. For the rest of the day, she had been in a haze of rapture, scarcely able to stop herself from cradling her stomach in absent intervals. A baby. There was really a baby.

When she'd told John, she hadn't believed that it would be possible to see a look of such absolute joy on a man's face. It had taken her breath away, made her fall even more deeply in love with him, something she had thought was impossible until that point. He had been so wonderful to her, taking care of her every need enthusiastically. It was down to him that she was now being released earlier on a couple of evenings a week. As soon as she had related everything that Dr. Clarkson had told her to him, he had insisted that they let everyone at Downton know.

"_Can't we keep it as our little secret for a while longer?"_ she'd asked him.

Earnest brown eyes had pleaded with her. _"But Dr. Clarkson said that you need to be very careful."_

"_I'm pregnant, not ill."_

"_I just don't want anything to happen. He said you shouldn't work too hard. I don't want you or the baby to be under any strain. They'll make exceptions for you. If you're worried about speaking to Lady Mary or Mrs. Hughes, I'll do it."_

His overprotectiveness had made her heart swell. _"Oh, all right. We'll let everyone know."_

They had told everyone together, first speaking to Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes (the former looking scandalised at the idea of a pregnant lady's maid wandering about the house), then to their employers, and finally to the rest of the staff. Thomas had been the only truly nasty one, but they had both ignored him, too happy to let him damper their spirits for even a minute.

John had, however, approached Mrs. Hughes alone the following morning to beseech that she wasn't worked too hard. Anna didn't know exactly what had been said, but Mrs. Hughes must have agreed readily, because halfway through the morning, she had approached her to tell her that she was to start resting more.

"_What?"_ Anna had asked, utterly flummoxed.

"_Well, you must look after yourself now. You have a bairn on the way, and you mustn't stress too much. I will sort out your extra duties with the other maids. And we should start thinking about advertising your position. It might take a while until we find someone suitable."_

"_I'm barely two months gone, Mrs. Hughes."_

"_I know, but even so. It wouldn't do at all if you were to overwork yourself."_

Anna had rolled her eyes. _"Has Mr. Bates put you up to it?"_

"_He's rightly concerned about you. You should be grateful. Not many men would be as anxious."_

"_I don't want to be a burden."_

"_Don't be silly. Of course you won't be. But you should be careful."_

The new rota had been worked out accordingly. Anna was allowed two nights of the week off. On those evenings, a hopeful applicant for her position was given a trial. Anna felt rather jealous, even if she knew it was silly to feel such a way. But she had been Lady Mary's confidante for more than half of her life. It felt strange to know that that would completely stop one day.

Still, Anna couldn't complain too much. Pregnancy had hit her much harder than she'd thought, and she hadn't taken to it as well as she'd always hoped that she would. Almost every morning had found her clutching the basin until her knuckles turned white, her complexion pasty, a stark contrast to the dark circles under her eyes. The nausea had barely left her in the day, making her stomach roil warningly at the most inconvenient of times, and even doing her reduced tasks had drained her to the core. Most nights, it had been difficult to even make it up the stairs before she was asleep. John had been perfectly content to coax her up them and take care of her every need, helping to bundle her into her nightgown and get her settled under the covers.

Now, however, things were changing. The nausea was finally beginning to recede, and she was waking up feeling much brighter. She was no longer throwing up. Her appetite was back with a vengeance.

"_It's perfectly normal,"_ Dr. Clarkson had reassured her. _"Sometimes the first few months hit some women harder than others. But you should stabilise now. Your appetite will start to grow wild, I imagine."_

He had imagined right, but she doubted that he'd been alluding to more ways than one.

The bang of the front door shook Anna from her reverie, and she felt a thrill low in her stomach. John was home.

A few minutes later, the door to the kitchen was pushed open, and John filled the doorway. Anna turned to face him, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering their wings frantically. The doorway was just slightly too small for him, so he had to stoop a little. It made him look all the more impressive, his entire being filling the space. He had hung his jacket up and abandoned his cane in the hallway, something he rarely used around the house. Usually so tidy and meticulous, he had already removed his stiff collar and wrestled his tie free. He was currently working his cufflinks out, obviously intending to roll his shirtsleeves up. Anna's heart flipped at his dishevelled appearance.

"Hello," John greeted her then, padding further into the room.

"Hello," she echoed, putting down her spoon so that she could lean against the counter. "Hard night, I take it?"

"Awful," he confirmed. "Mr. Carson was in a foul mood. Jimmy and Alfred managed to drop the first course all over the floor because they were showing off for Ivy. I've never seen an explosion as bad as that in my life. Mr. Carson was absolutely fuming."

Anna didn't know whether to wince or giggle. "Oh dear."

"He had us all on our hands and knees cleaning it up while Mrs. Patmore tried to throw something else together."

"My poor man," she murmured, allowing his arms around her body.

"It's all right now, though," he said. "I'm home with my beautiful wife and out little baby." His hands moved to her stomach, caressing there softly. "Hello, Baby Bates."

She did giggle then, wrapping her own arms around him. The affectionate nickname that she had jokingly bestowed upon the life growing inside her seemed to have stuck with her husband.

"Has she been causing you any trouble today?" he asked her, still stroking there softly.

"John, you don't know that it's going to be a girl." It was the same line of playful argument that their conversation took every time.

"I know," he said simply, and like usual, she let him be, answering the question he'd just posed to her.

"No," she said. "Baby Bates has been very good to Mummy today."

"That's what I like to hear," he said approvingly. "Poor Mummy works very hard, Baby Bates, so you need to be good to her."

"And so do you," she said cheekily. "Don't think I haven't noticed the lack of kiss yet, John Bates."

"And here was me hoping that I'd escaped that," he said teasingly. "I suppose I'll have to kiss you know that you've noticed."

"Goodness knows what you're going to be like when I really do get fat and unattractive."

"I'll only love you more," he reassured her. "And there will be even more of you to love, so that's even better for me."

She rolled her eyes affectionately at his charms, then tipped her head back. He took heed of her silent order, dipping his head low, meeting her lips softly. She sighed into his mouth, moving her hands up to scrunch against his hair, opening her mouth wide. He took the invitation, slipping his tongue inside gently, softly caressing. She felt a shiver ripple down her spine, and she pushed herself more firmly against him. He broke away from her at last, panting a little, dropping more loving kisses against her mouth as he recovered.

"That was a nice greeting," he breathed.

She could only nod. Her insides were still fluttering.

He kissed her one last time, then released her. "What else needs doing?"

She shook herself. "I've got everything covered. Go and wash your hands, and it'll be ready to eat."

Nodding, he began to leave the room. Anna admired the strong, broad shoulders, the slope in his back. She couldn't wait for bed time. For the last couple of months, she had had no interest in making love, too tired or ill to want to make the effort, but she was very aware of the fact that her sexual appetite seemed to be back with a thrilling vengeance. Just the slightest of touches could have her whole body burning with need. And, so far, John hadn't seemed to have noticed. He had been wonderful with her at the beginning, not even once trying to initiate more than a kiss and a cuddle before they settled down for the night. But now she was once again felt ready for more. Tonight was going to be the night.

* * *

Dinner passed quickly. Throughout, Anna couldn't take her eyes off her husband. Every movement he made had her almost whimpering. The way that his fingers cradled his cutlery. His tongue darting out to wet his lips. The lump bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. She had never found such an act so arousing before.

When dinner was over, John got up and moved the plates from the table.

"Jam tart?" he asked her, peering at it interestedly. "You're still craving sweet things, then?"

"Yes," she pouted. "This babe is demanding it. I'll be fat before I even need to be at this rate."

"You're only looking more beautiful to me," said John honestly, moving to cut her a large slice of the tart. "And I think this is proving that Baby Bates is going to be a beautiful girl like her mother."

She rolled her eyes, accepting her pudding eagerly. "That doesn't prove anything at all."

"You'll see," he said. "Trust my Irish intuition."

"Irish intuition," she teased. "There's no such thing. More like silly old wives' tales."

"You'll see," he said serenely, cutting into his own slice of tart. She was riveted to the tiny speck of jam that lingered at the corner of his mouth when he raised it to his lips. Fumbling for her glass of water, she tried to get herself under control.

It was easier said than done. By the time he was finished, she was shaking with desire. It was rather frightening, that he could arouse her so easily without even touching her. She fidgeted in her seat.

"Is everything all right?" he asked her at once, his expression concerned.

"Of course it is," she said. "You don't need to constantly worry, John."

"Of course I worry," he said. "I'd be a despicable husband if I didn't."

She smiled. "I promise that nothing's going to happen. Now, why don't we retire to bed?" Her heart was thumping again by the end of her sentence.

"Tired?" he asked her. "I suppose you are. It's been a long day. Why don't you head upstairs while I sort these dinner pots?"

"You could always leave them until the morning and come up with me now," she said, letting the words linger suggestively.

"I won't fancy facing them in the morning before I go to work."

"So leave them until the evening."

"What, and start washing them before we have dinner and then have to do them all over again? That doesn't sound very appealing."

"Let me help you do it now, then. We'll be done in no time, and then we can both head up to bed."

"Out of the question. You've exerted yourself enough today."

She heaved a frustrated sigh, defeated. "Fine, then. I'll head up. Don't be too long."

He nodded, kissing the top of her head when he bent down to collect her empty plate. "I won't."

There was nothing else she could do but leave him clearing the table. As much as she loved him, he could be terribly exasperating sometimes. Was he really so clueless that he couldn't read her seduction? He had never had any problems before. Perhaps the months without lovemaking had left his ability to read her rusty. Well, she would soon alter that.

Once in their bedroom, she made quick work of her clothes, sighing in satisfaction as she removed the corset. It really was becoming a burden to where. John had urged her to lose it, but she thought that it might finally finish Mr. Carson off. His patience was already being tested as it was. Slipping beneath the covers, she shivered. It wasn't very warm tonight. She hoped that John would hurry up and warm her. Absently, she rubbed her palm over her stomach. She felt a fluttering beneath her fingertips, and sighed softly. Instinctively, she knew that it was their baby that she was feeling. It had happened a few times before this, a strange fluttering sensation in her stomach, pleasant and reassuring despite its oddness. Its suddenness never failed to take her breath away, cementing her knowledge that somehow all of this was real.

At that moment, John entered the room.

"What's wrong?" he asked at once, noticing the look on her face.

She shook her head, a smile blooming. "I felt the baby again, that's all."

A grin of his own overtook John's face, and he padded across the room, settling himself on the edge of the bed. Anna knew what he wanted, and took hold of his hand. Gently, she placed his hand over her stomach, shivering at the strength of his palm as he cradled the small bump with such tenderness.

"Is she still moving?" he asked her.

She nodded, smiling. "She's feeling feisty tonight."

"Just like her mother," he joked, then frowned. "I wish I could feel her too."

"You will soon. I can't wait to share it with you."

He nodded, fingers caressing softly.

"I think she's actually moving a little more ferociously right now," said Anna with a giggle.

"Trying to tell her old pa to leave her alone?"

"Oh, I doubt it. More like she's letting you know that she loves you."

There was uncertainty in John's eyes for a moment, before he shook his head. The look concerned Anna briefly. She knew what he was thinking. That he wouldn't be a good father. That their child would hate him. He hadn't mentioned any of his insecurities yet, and Anna was determined to bring them up so that his mind could be put to rest, but the moment was lost when he turned around, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"The dinner pots are all washed," he told her as he threw his waistcoat over the chair in the corner, continuing on with the shirt that he had half-unbuttoned. Anna wished that he would turn around so that she could get a proper view of his broad, hairy chest. Instead, she was greeted by the breadth of his back. Which most definitely wasn't a bad alternative. Greedily, she let her eyes rove over that surface, watching the way that the muscles in his shoulders contorted as he rolled them, watching the way that his spine rippled. He stood then, moving to hang his shirt up, taking the waistcoat with him. Anna's heart was beating faster than ever. There was something about seeing him with his braces hanging limply from his trousers, his upper body completely naked, his trousers frustratingly hiding the path of dark hair that arrowed down his stomach. It took all of her self-restraint to stay sitting on the bed.

And she could barely restrain her whimper when he worked his trousers open, letting them drop to the floor.

Long, hairy legs. A _man's_ legs. Anna barely noticed the criss-cross of ugly scars over his right knee and lower leg, too transfixed by how wonderful they looked. She needed to feel them against her tonight.

She shuffled further down the bed as John sank back onto the end of it, groaning softly. She raised herself up on her knees, moving to wrap her arms around his bare torso as he tiredly leant his head back against her.

"Get into bed, John," she said, letting her lips linger at his temple, kissing the skin there gently.

"Let me just finish getting ready," he murmured, moving to collect his pyjamas.

"Don't bother," she said. "You won't be needing them."

The words lingered in the air between them. Anna felt John tense.

"What?" he said.

Her brow furrowed a little. "Isn't my meaning obvious?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I suppose so, yes."

"So what are you waiting for? Lie back and relax."

She moved to press another kiss against his temple, but he pulled away when he felt her breath by his ear.

"Not tonight, Anna," he said, his voice heavy.

She pulled away from him, utterly confused. "John?"

"I'm not in the mood," he said apologetically, shuffling away from her. "I'm just a little too tired tonight. You understand, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she said quickly, though she silently cursed to hear that her voice was wavering. She hoped that she wasn't going to start crying. Her hormones were wreaking havoc on her body. And she wasn't going to deny it: it _hurt_. John had never rejected her advances once in their married life. She wasn't used to it.

"Anna? Are you all right?"

His eyes were questioning on her face, and she quickly turned away. "I'm fine."

He watched her wordlessly as she clambered under the covers and lay down on her side. Slowly, he mirrored her action, sliding over to her to rest a hand against her stomach. She flinched.

"You're not all right," he said softly.

She buried her head stubbornly in her pillow. "I told you, I'm fine."

"You don't need to lie to me, Anna. It's because of what I said, isn't it?"

Shame burned within her. She couldn't admit to it. He would just think that she was some kind of whore, unable to control herself. "No, it's not that."

Now his lips were kissing gently at the back of her neck. There was such tenderness in his touch. "Then tell me. Please."

She sighed, feeling the tears well up more insistently. "John…are you sure that you still find me attractive?"

He pulled away at once. "What?" She could hear the confusion in his voice. "Anna, what a thing to ask. Of _course_ I do. What could be more attractive to me than you carrying our child?"

"But we've not…"

"Not what?"

She wiped at her eyes. "We've not made love since I got pregnant."

Silence lingered for a moment. John shifted so that he was sitting up.

"I know that," he said quietly. "But you were in no fit state at the beginning. I wasn't going to force you into something that you didn't really want. Waiting has never been an issue for me. I knew you needed time to adjust to everything. I have no experience, but everyone says it's a massive thing."

"I'm grateful to you for that," she admitted. "Because you're right. I _wasn't_ ready for making love. I felt so tired and ill all of the time. But…but I don't feel like that anymore."

He knew what she was implying under her words, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And you have no idea how glad that makes me. I hated seeing you suffering."

"But why won't you…?"

Now it was John's turn to look uncomfortable, his gaze sliding from hers.

"John?"

He heaved a sigh, forcing himself to meet her gaze again. "It's not because I don't find you attractive, I promise you."

"So…?"

"I'm afraid I'll hurt the baby," he blurted at once, his cheeks darkening.

"What!?"

"You heard me," he mumbled. "I'm so much bigger than you are, and I'd never forgive myself if I accidentally hurt you or our child."

"There's no way that you could hurt me," said Anna, sitting up. "We can still be intimate, even if I am pregnant. Lots of married couples still are."

He shook his head. "Even so."

"Well, we don't have to stick to the conventions. I could go on top. That way there's no chance that you could hurt me."

He shook his head again. "I daren't, Anna. If either of us got too carried away…"

"This is ridiculous," she huffed. "So you expect us to both go without making love for something like a year? Because from what I've heard, it'll take me at least a couple of months to recover from giving birth before I feel up to anything more again. You're prepared to put us both through that when you don't need to. And what about my needs?"

"What needs?"

She huffed, blushing herself. "_Women's _needs, of course. Women sometimes need _more_ intimacy during pregnancy than they do otherwise."

"Good God," he said, trying to tease, "I don't think I'd ever be able to leave the bedroom if that was the case with you."

She didn't laugh. "But that's the point, John. It _is_ the case. I still want to be close to you. I want to be close to you tonight." To feel his strong arms around her. To feel him touching every inch of her. The mere thought of it was making her tingle again.

The tingle soon started to sour, however, when she caught the agonised look on John's face. The urge to cry was stronger.

"Never mind," she sighed, turning away from him again so that she could bury herself back into her pillows. "I don't want to force _you_ into something that you don't want."

"Anna, don't be like that. It's not a case of not wanting."

She shrugged indifferently, wrapping the sheets tighter around her. "It's not important now. Anyway, I'm suddenly feeling very tired."

It was a complete lie, and they both knew it; not one minute before, she'd been telling him that she wanted to make love to him. But John didn't want to push the subject, so he nodded and tentatively lowered himself onto the bed beside her, shuffling closer until his front was pressed up against her back. She stiffened at once, muscles taut, and he tried to get her to relax by kissing between her shoulders, snaking a hand around to rest against her stomach as was customary, but that only made it worse. Sighing, he removed his hand, then wondered awkwardly what he should do with it. It seemed like forever since he had slept each and every night alone. He couldn't remember what position he'd slept in before sharing a bed with Anna.

Anna didn't speak again, though he knew that she wasn't sleeping just yet – her breathing wasn't deep enough. He wondered if he should perhaps try to say something, but no words would come when he opened his mouth. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and tried to relax, but it was difficult. He and Anna rarely argued, and if they did, they never let a problem fester, sorting it out almost as soon as the argument had started. They had certainly never gone to sleep angry at each other.

It wasn't to be the case tonight. John knew that he was in for a restless time.

They probably both were.

* * *

The next morning came, and John slowly stirred from his dozing when the alarm sounded. Anna grumbled beside him, burying her head resolutely under the pillow, and John couldn't help but chuckle reluctantly. Early mornings for his wife were always amusing to watch. For someone who was so sweet and even-tempered most of the time, it was comical to see her so grouchy first thing in a morning. Sometimes, John would attempt to lift her mood by shifting himself above her and setting her body alight. It always put him in a fabulous mood, and judging from the contented smirk that would always be curling at the corners of her mouth afterwards, John would wager that he usually succeeded.

The laughter died in his throat now when he remembered that making love had been the topic that had sent them to bed on a disagreement. Was she in a better mood this morning? He tentatively reached out a hand to touch her shoulder.

"Come on, Anna," he coaxed her gently. "It's time to get up."

"Don't want to," she said groggily. "I'm tired. Can't I have five more minutes?"

He sighed, checking the time. It was half past five in the morning. The one bad thing about having a home of their own was the fact that now they had to rise even earlier in a morning to make sure that they got to work for quarter to seven, when the day's chores would start in earnest.

"All right," he said. "Five more minutes. I'll get ready, and then I'll go and put the kettle on. But then you'll have to get up."

She nodded sleepily. She seemed to be feeling a little better than she had been last night, so he took a risk and leant over to kiss her cheek as he sat himself up. He loved how warm her skin was. She didn't flinch at the contact either, which, John thought with some relief, was progress. Kissing her once more, he slipped out of bed, moving to collect the clothes that he had removed the night before. It was still freezing in their room, no thanks to the unusually chilly April, and he wished, not for the first time, that they could have a fire up here. Especially now, when it was in their best interests to make sure that Anna was as comfortable as possible.

Anna had fought her way up from the blankets, blinking owlishly as she watched him moving around the room. Stifling a yawn, she raised a hand to her braided hair, swiping the loose strands out of her eyes. John tried not to take notice of the dark circles there, proof of her sleeplessness the night before. She gave him a feeble quirk of the lips.

"Morning," she said, her voice rasping slightly.

"Morning," he echoed, then added teasingly, "you've still got two minutes of those precious five left, you know."

She stretched her arms, wincing as she felt how cold the air was. "Never mind. I don't think there's a great deal of sleep to be had in them."

"Are you hungry?" he asked her. "I could make you a slice of toast while you get ready."

She shook her head. "I'll just wait until we get to Downton. But thank you."

"What about a cup of tea?"

"I'm fine, truly."

She wasn't meeting his eye again, and John shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He knew that he had to address the issue.

"Anna, about last night…"

"It's fine," she said quickly. "Honestly, John. Let's forget about it."

"But –"

"Really," she said. "I'll feel much more comfortable if we can just forget about the whole thing. I respect your choices. That's that."

He could tell that she wasn't really feeling that way at all, but she was trying so hard, smiling even if it was strained, and he didn't want to spoil her mood. Perhaps he could bring it up again when it was a little less raw. It certainly wasn't a finished conversation.

He felt terrible about the things he'd blurted out to her, even if they were true. He _was_ frightened that he might hurt their baby if he was to accidentally get too rough for her, or else inadvertently put too much of his weight on her if he was to make love to her. She had said that she wouldn't mind making love in different positions in the slightest – something that they were already completely used to anyway – but he was still wary. He didn't want to do anything that could jeopardise their baby. It had taken them long enough to conceive in the first place. He was fiercely protective. Nothing would harm either Anna or their child as long as he was around. And he certainly wasn't going to do anything that might lead to him being the one to hurt her.

So, nodding, he moved to press another kiss against her temple, before limping towards the bedroom door.

"I'll go and make sure that we've got everything we need before we go to Downton," he said. "Let me know when you're ready."

"I will," she said, slipping herself out of bed. He was struck with how small she looked, standing in just her nightgown, the material beginning to cling just slightly to the roundness of her stomach, their baby finally making itself known to the world. She was so tiny; he was terrified at the thought that one day she would be giving birth, that her body would be subjected to the most horrific pain imaginable. He knew that when the time came, he would hate himself for putting her in such a situation.

She moved over to the wardrobe, intending to pull out her day dress. He was overwhelmed by love for her, seeing her dainty figure and the way that she carried herself. He couldn't stop himself from moving back over to her, wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her close.

"I do love you, you know that, don't you?" he said, a little embarrassed by the emotion in his voice.

She patted his back awkwardly, pressing her forehead against his chest. "I know."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I know."

He tipped her head back then, moving his head down to capture her lips gently. She accepted his kiss quietly, clutching at his back. It was chaste and brief, but it warmed her still.

"I'll see you downstairs," he murmured.

She nodded, letting go of him, and he watched as she started to pull her nightgown up over her head. He felt a twinge in his lower half at the sight of her skin.

No, their conversation certainly wasn't over.

* * *

"Is everything all right, Anna?"

Anna looked up from what she was doing, peering at Lady Mary through the mirror. "Oh, yes. I'm fine, thank you, milady."

Lady Mary's frown deepened. "Are you sure? You seem a little quiet this morning."

"I've just got a lot on my mind," she said as airily as she could.

"With the baby?"

"Yes," she said gratefully. "With the baby."

"I wouldn't worry about anything, you know. Everything's going to be fine. And you've got a while yet until the thought of labour needs to frighten you out of your mind."

She managed a weak smile, deftly clipping the last of the pins. "It'll probably still come around much quicker than I'd like."

Lady Mary laughed, shaking her head. "Believe me, when you're nine months pregnant and feeling like a beached whale, it will be a relief to finally get the baby into the world. And you'll have Bates with you, of course." At those words, a powerful sadness overtook the younger woman's face, and Anna grimaced a little.

It had been hard, telling her about the pregnancy when the memory of losing her husband so horrifically after the birth of her little son had still been so raw. As a rule, Anna tried not to draw too much attention to her pregnancy. She doubted that Lady Mary needed reminders of her own pregnancy, when Mr. Matthew had been so happily be her side, excitedly awaiting the chance to be a father to a wonderful baby. And now that chance had been cruelly snatched from him forever.

"Speaking of Bates," Lady Mary continued bravely, shooting her a wan smile, "I saw you with him the other day. He looked very excited."

"Oh?" she said as casually as she could. "I suppose he is excited, milady." The last thing that she wanted to was flaunt her happiness so thoughtlessly in front of her employer.

"Yes," continued Lady Mary. Her voice had taken on a dreamy, wistful quality. "I think you were taking a break together."

Anna remembered the day that Lady Mary was speaking about now. They had taken a short walk across the lawn together, John worried that Anna felt too hot.

"_The breeze will cool you down,"_ he'd told her. _"And I'm here to keep you company. We won't be long, just long enough for you to feel better."_

She'd readily agreed, because she _had_ been feeling warm, and they had strolled together happily, Anna's hand slipped into the crook of her husband's arm. He had stopped her not far into their walk, turning to face her with bright eyes.

"_I've got a surprise for you when we get back to the cottage,"_ he'd told her.

"_A surprise?"_ she'd giggled. _"What kind of surprise?"_

"_A nice one. But if I tell you anymore, it'll spoil it."_

"_You can be so infuriating sometimes."_

He'd smirked at her pout, stepping closer, pulling her back against his front as she'd squealed. His hands had found her waist, then drifted lower, caressing her stomach gently, his head dropping against her shoulder. _"Perhaps I am. And I thank God every day that you're able to put up with me."_

The feel of his hands on her stomach and his breath ruffling against the side of her neck had been too irresistible to ignore. So she hadn't ignored it, snaking a hand round the back of his head, turning and lifting her mouth to meet his own, convinced that they were sheltered enough by the trees to afford them the privacy of kissing. There had been no hurriedness, just open love. They would never need to hide their feelings ever again.

Now, however, Anna felt exposed and vulnerable, as if she'd been caught doing something that was terribly, terribly wrong. Lady Mary had seen them that afternoon. She'd seen John cradling her stomach in his strong palms, and she'd seen them kissing each other shamelessly. And yet there was no accusation or disgust in her gaze, just that wistful look. Evidently, she was remembering what it had been like to have Mr. Matthew touching her in such a way.

"You were very happy that day, I think," continued the eldest daughter of the house. "I was taking a walk with George, and I could hear you laughing even from a distance."

"I _was_ happy," Anna admitted, moving to collect her mistress' night clothes.

"And you aren't now."

"Of course I am," she said quickly. "I'm so very happy."

"But not today."

Anna resisted the urge to huff in frustration. It had taken Lady Mary a very long time before she had started to notice anything other than her own heart-breaking grief. It had been painful to witness as both her maid and as her friend, but now Anna wished rather uncharitably that she would at least go back to not noticing other people's troubles.

"It's nothing, milady," she said. "I'm just being silly."

Lady Mary turned towards her. "You can tell me anything, Anna. God knows you've helped me out of enough scrapes in the past."

"You've done more than your fair share for me, too," Anna argued. "I would never have got Mr. Bates out of prison if it wasn't for your generosity."

"I would still like to help if I can."

Anna shuffled on the spot. "I'd rather not say, milady. It's a little…personal."

"I see." Evidently, she did. There was only one subject that would prompt Anna to blush in such a way. "Well, I know what you mean on that score. But don't worry, you'll feel less like that in a couple of months."

"A couple of months?" Anna sighed heavily. There was no point trying to deny what Lady Mary was saying. "That seems like a horribly long time."

"Well, I'm sure Bates won't mind helping you out."

Anna fought to keep her face expressionless, though Lady Mary evidently caught a flicker of despair in her eyes, for she turned away from the mirror to regard her maid properly.

"Oh, I see," she said. "_That's_ what the problem is."

Anna could do nothing but nod miserably. She twisted her hands together, contemplating her wedding ring.

"May I ask why…?"

"He's scared of hurting the baby," she said quickly, feeling her cheeks flame hotter than ever.

Lady Mary nodded in understanding. "I think it's a fear that all new fathers seem to hold. I remember Mr. Matthew was just the same at the beginning. He barely let me out of his sight most of the time."

"But what can I do about it?" asked Anna dejectedly. "Should I just leave it and see what happens?"

"These things have a way of working themselves out. Have you talked to him about it?"

"Not really," she admitted. "In fact, I think I'd rather not."

"Things won't sort themselves that way."

"I know. But I don't want to make him uncomfortable."

Lady Mary was frowning into the mirror again. "I think I can manage from here."

"Very good, milady," said Anna, though she was slightly confused at the sudden change in the conversation. "Shall I bring your breakfast tray up now?"

"No, I'll go down for breakfast. Thank you."

Anna dipped her head quickly, then headed towards the door. In the threshold, she cast one last curious look over her shoulder, before leaving the room completely.

Lady Mary stood. A visit to her papa's dressing room was in order.

* * *

John carefully rearranged the things on Lord Grantham's dressing table. It looked like he had everything ready for the afternoon dress – his lordship was going out for a walk in the grounds, and would require his cap and the rest of it. Still, he wasn't concentrating properly. All he could think about was Anna, and their conversation from the previous night.

Anna had wanted to make love, and he'd rejected her. He could scarcely imagine how painful that must have been for her. He was a bastard. He had meant well with it, but he was a bastard all the same. He had sworn that he would never again hurt Anna now that they were married and happy. But he had.

There was a knock on the door.

Startled, John turned around to find Lady Mary lingering in the doorway.

"Good morning, milady," he said. "Are you looking for his lordship? He's just gone down for breakfast."

Lady Mary shook her head. "Actually, Bates, I was coming to see you."

"Me?" Panic suddenly overtook him. "Anna's all right, isn't she? Nothing's happened?"

She held up a hand to stop him. "Anna's perfectly fine. Although I have come to see you about her."

"Oh?" he said. "Why?"

"She seems a little despondent this morning. I was just wondering if you'd noticed if anything was wrong with."

"What do you mean?" he said, his heart beginning to beat fast. "Has she said that she's upset?"

"No, she hasn't, but I can tell. Anna's always so happy. But today she's not. Is there anything worrying her?"

Of course there was. Him, and his stupid inability to put his fears aside. "I don't know, milady. I'll speak to her as soon as I can."

"See that you do, Bates," said Lady Mary. "The last thing Anna needs is undue stress."

John nodded dazedly. "Yes, milady." He felt rather uncomfortable, having the eldest daughter of the house talking to him about such things. They had rarely interacted in the past – John could count the times on one hand – so it felt even more surreal, having her lecture him about his wife's happiness. He already knew that it was the most important thing in the world. She didn't need to tell him that.

_So why don't you do something about it when you know you can?_

He was being ridiculous. Plenty of married people still made love while the woman was pregnant. Why did it need to be different for him and Anna? As long as he was gentle and careful, no harm would come to her. And he was lying if he pretended that he _didn't_ want to make love to her. He found her attractive all of the time, but there was something about having her a little rounder, more filled out and slightly curvier. She had already started expressing her concerns about the way that her body was changing. He certainly needed to start doing a better job of reassuring her that she couldn't get any more perfect.

Rubbing a hand across his face, John turned back to Lady Mary.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll make sure that I reassure her about whatever's troubling her."

"See that you do," said Lady Mary. "I'm afraid even we women need to be made to feel special sometimes. Especially when we're pregnant."

John wasn't quite sure what Lady Mary was implying with her words – _was she trying to say that she knew what the problem was?_ – but he nodded anyway.

Anna needed to feel special. She needed to feel loved. Whatever his own misgivings were, he needed to stop being selfish and concentrate on making sure that Anna knew how loved she was.

He had the perfect plan.

* * *

Anna sighed. It had been a particularly long day today. There had been so much to do, and she had barely had time for a break all day. She had seen Mrs. Hughes eyeing her warily as she'd sat exhausted in the servants' hall, but she had tried to smile reassuringly. She was sure that she would have harder days in the future.

She had barely seen John all day. It had been a little disheartening. Despite the awkwardness that had been brought on by the previous evening, she had missed sitting next to him at the table during tea time, his hand occasionally dropping to her knee to caress it comfortingly through her dress, his eyes catching hers and holding her gaze. But Mr. Carson had informed her that he had had an errand to run for Lord Grantham in the village, and he wasn't going to be back until the dressing gong. She had managed to catch him in the corridor before they'd gone up, but he'd been acting a little strangely.

"_I could have accompanied you this afternoon,"_ she'd said, standing before him.

He'd smiled. _"It can be a long walk to the village. I wouldn't dream of putting you through it. Not with the condition you're in."_

"_I wish everyone would stop saying that. I'm only a few months gone. I can cope with walking and working as well as I could before."_

"_Well, there was no need to drag you along. In any case, you would have spoiled things."_

"_Spoiled things?"_ She'd been unable to stop the flash of hurt in her voice. _"Whatever do you mean?"_

His smile had been cryptic.

"_Mr. Bates," _she'd whined, folding her arms crossly, _"Why would I have spoiled things?"_

Being out in the corridor, he hadn't wanted to take a risk, so he'd made do with placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. _"Don't worry, I wasn't off seeing the local postmistress, if that's what you're worried about. Although she does make the most wonderful tea."_

She'd wanted to smack him for his evasiveness, but there had been something endearing about his cheeky smile. Still, he'd sobered then, letting his fingers caress the top of her dress softly.

"_Wait until we get home this evening,"_ he'd said. _"I'll tell you all about it then."_

There had been nothing she could do but nod, and he'd continued on his way to see to Lord Grantham for the evening. Anna herself had left then to get Lady Mary ready for dinner, but her mind had continued to whir. For some reason, he had seemed more relaxed. She had dared to hope that perhaps things between them could be sorted out properly. Lady Mary had been silent for the majority of the time, and it had given her the opportunity to dream.

"Anna, are you ready to go?"

The sound of John's voice jolted her from her recollections, and she lifted her head at once. He was standing before her in his coat and hat, hers hanging over his arm. He smiled at her when she met his gaze, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It made her heart swell.

"Yes, I am," she sighed, pushing herself to her feet with a quiet groan. Slowly, she rounded the table, moving towards him. She was glad that the hall was still empty. Most of the maids were helping to clear the dining room, as were Jimmy and Alfred. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were discussing some visit that Downton was hosting next week. Everyone else seemed to be busy elsewhere.

"Here," he said, opening the coat to bundle her into it. She sighed softly as he gently pulled it closed around her body, his fingers beginning to button up the front of it. She cast her eyes up to his, and her breath snagged in her throat at the look in them. She didn't quite trust herself to speak, so accepted her hat from him silently, reaching up to pin it into her hair.

"You look perfect," he told her once she'd done that, taking hold of her hands so that he could slip her gloves on. "Come on, let's get home."

"All right, what have you done?" she asked him.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, entirely too innocently for her liking.

"Well, something's clearly brought this dressing me in the servants' hall business on. You've never done that before."

He glanced around quickly, making sure they were still alone, before leaning in close to her, his breath ghosting against her ear. "Just be thankful that I'm not _undressing_ you in the servants' hall."

She gasped sharply at that, pulling away from him. He simply raised his eyebrows at her. At a loss for words, she could do nothing but blink into his face.

Smirking at her reaction, John took hold of her hand. "Come on, let's get going."

She followed him dumbly, lacing their fingers together as they walked. Mrs. Hughes poked her head out of Mr. Carson's pantry as they walked by, evidently drawn by the clack of John's cane against the flagstones.

"Oh, you're off then?" she asked in her thick Scottish brogue.

"Yes, we are," smiled John. "We'll see you tomorrow." He kept a tight hold on Anna's hand, pulling her closer to his side. Mrs. Hughes' gaze flickered between the two of them, but he didn't seem embarrassed to have been caught holding his wife's hand in the workplace.

"Bright and early, I hope." Mr. Carson's voice rumbled from inside the pantry. "We have lots to prepare."

"Don't worry, we'll be on time," said John. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," the butler and the housekeeper echoed, and Anna and John stepped out into the chilly night.

"Let's hurry home," said John. "I don't want you catching a cold."

She rolled her eyes at his protectiveness, but didn't argue with him. It _was_ cold, and she _would_ be grateful to reach home as soon as possible. They walked as quickly as they could with John's leg, huddled close together for warmth, John's hand still gripping hers tightly. The breeze was slapping their faces and reddening their cheeks with its vigour, and Anna couldn't help but shiver. John's hand slipped from hers at the sensation, moving to wrap itself tightly around her waist, pulling her even snugger against his side.

It felt wonderful, being that close to him. Anna could feel the warmth of his hand splaying against her hip bone, and secretly relished the closeness between the two of them. Normally, holding hands was as far as he would go on the walk home from Downton, cautious even then of being caught in a position that would be considered scandalous. Anna didn't know what had gotten into him, but seemed that he cared less about that tonight.

She wasn't going to complain.

At last, they reached the cottage door, and Anna heaved a sigh of relief when John began to fumble for the key. She waited patiently while he unlocked the door, and then slipped inside in front of him, standing in the dark hallway while he closed the door behind him. He locked it with a satisfying click.

It wasn't much warmer in the hallway, and John moved forward, hanging his cane up by the door, sliding his coat from his shoulders.

"I'll get the fire going," he said.

"All right," agreed Anna. "I'll get started on dinner."

"No you won't."

John's words were unexpected, and her eyes widened in shock. "What?"

"You won't get started on dinner. _I'm _going to make dinner for you tonight."

"What?" she repeated, and he chuckled.

"And you say _my_ hearing is going," he said teasingly, sliding his arms around her. "Is it so unexpected that I should want to cook for you?"

"I didn't even know you knew how to cook."

"I was his lordship's batman. Of course I know how to cook."

"Yes, soldiers' meals."

"Well, what do you think I'll be cooking you tonight? A feast fit for a queen?"

"Well, I wouldn't object to it."

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss against her temple. "I'm afraid I'm not that good. But I can manage with a simple pie."

"I suppose I can make do with that," she shot back with a cheeky grin. She didn't know what had brought her husband's mood on, but she wasn't going to complain. She needed it, after the last night that they'd shared.

"And while I'm cooking," he continued, "you're going to be soaking in the bathtub."

"I like the sound of that," she said. "Soaking in the bathtub always makes me feel better."

"Good," he said. "I'll go and warm the water for you. You start getting ready."

He dropped a final kiss against her hair and then pulled away from her. Anna turned in the direction of their staircase, intending to strip off her clothes, while John moved to start collecting water. It was a long and rather laborious task, but he managed it, and as soon as the water was warm, he took it upstairs, careful not to spill any, pouring it bucket by bucket into the bathtub. Anna hovered while he did it, shivering in her shift and undergarments, and sighed with relief when he poured the final bucket into the bath. It was almost at the rim now, and simmering gently. Anna couldn't wait to sink into it. The warmth would certainly help to ease her aching limbs.

John set the bucket down by the bath, turning to regard her.

"Come here," he said softly, and she did so gladly, slipping into his arms as he opened them for her. His hands moved to splay at her hips, just beginning to widen, and she nuzzled her nose affectionately against his chest. His fingers began to curl into the hem of her shift, gently dragging it up her body.

"Let's get this off," he said softly, and she shivered at the tone of his voice, even if she knew that he wasn't trying to be seductive. His fingers grazed the sides of her breasts as he pulled it up, and she shivered more noticeably than ever, though she tried to supress it. She didn't want him to start feeling uncomfortable again. Not when he seemed to be in such a good mood.

He ran his fingers along her body when he'd finished, making goosebumps explode, moving his mouth to capture hers gently. Her own fingers fisted in his shirt, and she clung to him desperately, feeling the familiar flutterings in her stomach beginning to build. He broke away from her too soon.

"We don't want the water to get cold," he said. "And I need to start getting us something to eat."

She nodded reluctantly, allowing him to help her dispose of her undergarments too. She was aware of his eyes following her every move as she lifted her leg and hoisted herself into the bathtub, but she didn't feel self-conscious. It was only John, after all. He crouched down beside her when she was settled, languidly allowing a hand to dip into the bath and scoop water onto her still-dry breasts.

"Is that better?" he asked.

She sighed softly, letting her head rest against the rim as she sank deeper into the warmth. "Oh, yes. Much better."

He continued to scoop palmfuls of water onto her body for a few moments, never touching her body directly, which was deliciously infuriating. She ached for him, but she resolutely clamped it down. She wasn't going to frighten him. At last, he pulled away.

"I should go and start cooking now," he said. "You take as long as you need here."

She nodded, watching him stand with a groan. He waved away the half-formed question about his leg that was on her lips, and began to limp back towards the door. In the threshold, he allowed his eyes to linger over her wet skin, and how it looked glowing in the half-darkness, before shaking his head to break the spell, leaving her alone.

Anna took her time in the bath, allowing the warm water to chase away the day's aches. She didn't dwell too much on her husband's sudden change in attitude, not wanting to get her hopes up. Instead, she spent her time reclining leisurely, eyes closed, feeling her muscles relax under the healing touch of the water. When the water began to cool, she reached for the soap and her sponge, washing the grime from her body. When it cooled further, she pushed herself to her feet and reached for the towel that John had left on the warmer for her. It was large and fluffy, a little more than they probably should have spent on a pile of towels, but they _were_ wonderful to feel. Anna wrapped herself up in it tightly, before moving towards the bedroom, rubbing herself dry as she went.

It was cold in the bedroom, and Anna hurriedly changed into her nightgown, cursing that it was so thin; it did little to protect her from the sharp evening chill. She pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders, and then eyed John's gown. It was hanging over the arm of the chair that sat in the corner of their room. It looked very appealing. She was sure that John wouldn't mind if she wore it.

It was far too big for her, that was obvious when she looked at herself in the mirror. The arms went way passed her own hands, hiding them completely from view. She had cinched it tight around her waist, but even pregnant it still dwarfed her. John was also a great deal taller than she was. The gown on him went to his knees. It almost grazed the floor on her.

But it was warm, and it smelled like him. To Anna, those things were much more important.

Slowly, she began to move towards the staircase. There was the fresh aroma of cooking pastry in the air, and Anna's stomach began to growl in answer to it. She hoped dinner was almost ready. She was starving.

In the doorway to the kitchen, she stopped short. John evidently hadn't heard her arrival. He was stooped in front of the oven, peering into it, swearing under his breath. He had discarded his jacket (she spied it lying forlornly over the back of his chair, and wished that he'd hang it up like she told him to every night). His collar and tie were with it again, and she felt the stirrings in her stomach more pronouncedly than ever at the thought of him being dishevelled in her kitchen for the second time in two days. She spied his forearm as he used the side of the counter to get him back onto his feet, and her heart backflipped in her chest. Oh good God, she'd never be able to concentrate now. Still, she had to move forward and break the spell that he had unknowingly cast over her.

Clearing her throat, she moved to wrap her arms around his waist from behind. "All right, what have you done?"

John jumped at the unexpected feel of her slim arms around him, turning quickly to face her. Anna couldn't help but giggle. His face was rather red, and his hair had fallen loose from the pomade. The usual strands had fallen across his forehead. They made her toes curl.

"You're done with your bath then?" he asked her, moving one hand to her hip.

"John Bates, don't think I haven't noticed you side-stepping the question. What have you managed to do wrong this time?"

He huffed. "Do you really have so little faith in my abilities to give you wonderful meal?"

"Do you want me to answer that truthfully?" she shot back, and squealed when he dug his fingers playfully into her sides.

"I'll have you know that everything is under control, thank you very much," he said. "Go and sit down, and dinner will soon be served."

"You haven't set the table yet," she pointed out, moving to sit anyway.

He smirked. "That's because we're going to be eating in the sitting room."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Lord, Anna, are you sure you shouldn't be worried about your hearing?"

She shook her fist threateningly at him. "You hush up. I don't want you to get crumbs all over our lovely clean sitting room."

"A few crumbs won't hurt," he said. "No need to be so obsessive, love."

"You forget that I was a housemaid for fifteen years before I was a lady's maid. Of course I'm obsessive."

"What if I promise to clean up if I make a mess?" he murmured. "It's much warmer in there than it is in here. I've got a lovely fire going for you."

"If you're trying to charm me into this, Mr. Bates," she said, "then it's working."

"I'm glad to hear it," he growled. "By the way, my gown looks exquisite on you. You should wear it more often."

"Charmer," she said again, though she felt her insides squirming pleasantly. Just what had gotten into him? He hadn't been like this for a while.

"Go on," he said, breaking the spell. "Go and get yourself comfortable. Dinner will be served in ten minutes."

She did as she was told, moving to sit in the front room. John hadn't been lying; there was a wonderful fire crackling in the grate. Warm waves overcame her at once, and she sighed softly as she sank down onto the broken couch – something that they had _still_ not got around to replacing – kicking her feet up onto the little stool that had been a recent purchase. She snuggled further down, letting her eyes slide closed briefly. It felt wonderful, to be so warm and waited on. She listened to the sounds of John moving about the kitchen as she sat there, hearing him clattering the plates, and wincing when she heard him drop something on the floor. The cursing that followed cemented her belief that he had broken whatever it was. She just hoped it wasn't her favourite glass.

Right on time, John appeared in the doorway. Anna sat up expectantly, watching as he held a tray with careful concentration, limping across the room towards her. Steaming on the plate was a generous portion of pie. Vegetables drowning in gravy were collapsed at its side. She couldn't help but giggle a bit.

"I thought I did rather well," said John at once, his tone a little hurt.

"You've done marvellously," she reassured him quickly, though she couldn't stop herself from grinning. The edges of the pie were decidedly burnt.

John set the tray down tenderly on her lap, and she inhaled deeply. Despite its slightly dubious appearance, it _did_ smell good. And the care and affection that had gone into making it only ensured that Anna would think that it was the most delicious meal that she had ever tasted.

"I'll just fetch your drink," he said as she picked up her cutlery. "I didn't quite trust myself to bring it on the tray. It probably would have spilled, what with my limp."

"All right then," she said. "Thank you very much."

He returned a moment later clutching a glass filled with amber liquid, and she raised a surprise eyebrow.

"Beer?" she quipped, remembering their picnic so long ago now, "that's very racy of you."

"I _am_ racy," he shot back, without missing a beat, and she felt her heart beginning to thump more loudly in her head at the mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

"I should hope that you're not trying to get me drunk, though."

"I wouldn't dream of it, dear. But I know you like a beer every now and then, so I got some in for you."

"You're spoiling me," she said. "I'm suspicious. Have you done something wrong? Is this your way of trying to ease your conscience?"

"The postmistress almost did lure me inside for a drink of tea today. I suppose I feel guilty for almost giving in."

She rolled her eyes at the smirk on his face, knowing that he wasn't being the slightest bit serious. "All right, I won't question you further. But I _would _like to know more about why I couldn't accompany you into the village this afternoon."

"All in good time," he told her. "Right now, I'm a little hungry myself. I'll go and fetch my own tray."

She shifted when he returned, making room for him to squeeze onto the sofa beside her. He sighed, settling himself down.

"No beer for you?" she asked him, surprised at his glass of water.

He shrugged. "I need to be careful. Water is perfectly fine."

She watched him for a moment as he picked up his fork and began attacking his food with a little trepidation, and giggled as he wrinkled his nose at the blackened pastry.

"It's not so bad," she said, taking up her own forkful. "It tastes fine."

"Fine is one word for it," said John, grimacing a little. "I'm sorry, Anna. It's not turned out quite like I wanted it to."

"Don't apologise. No one's ever cooked for me before."

"Except for your mother and Mrs. Patmore, of course."

"You know what I mean," she pouted, and he chuckled, moving to kiss her cheek quickly as she chewed.

"Well, at least the whole thing didn't burn," he said. "And I have a nice dessert for you afterwards. Your favourite."

"Chocolate tart?"

He nodded. "I resisted the temptations of the postmistress, and I called in at the baker's instead. I wanted to make this evening special."

"It already is," she said, her eyes glowing. "Although if you continue to feed me sweet treats, I'll be the size of a whale before I even reach six months."

"And I'd love you just as much," he reassured her.

"So is that what you were doing in the village? Getting me a chocolate tart?"

"Well, that was one half of my errand. I did have something else to do, but you'll see that later on."

"John," she whined. "Why must you always be so cryptic? Do you know how infuriating you are?"

"Very infuriating, I imagine," he said musingly. "But don't worry, you'll find out what else I've got before the night is over."

"Can you at least tell me if it's a good surprise?"

"Well, you'll have to be the judge of that. I certainly hope you'll enjoy it."

"If it's anything like your last surprise," she decided, "then I shall." She smiled at the memory of John standing before her clutching the very first toy for their baby – a tiny teddy bear. His thoughtfulness and excitement that day had been wonderful to behold.

They fell silent for a few moments then, concentrating on eating their meals. John had to push it down him – it seemed that he wasn't a man like Alfred, who possessed the flair for cooking – but Anna was eating as if it was the last thing she'd ever taste. She really had to be hungry, to be stomaching it so well.

At last her plate was clean, and she laid down her knife and fork with a sigh.

"That was lovely," she said. "You do spoil me."

"You deserve to be spoiled. Now, you sit here while I bring you your dessert."

She smiled softly at him as he took his own tray away, before returning to collect her own. She listened to the sounds of him moving around the kitchen, and smiled widely when he brought the plate out to her.

"Goodness," she said. "You really _are_ trying to get me fat."

He chuckled, handing it to her. "You don't need to eat it all. Now, I'll be back in a few minutes. I just need to fetch something from upstairs."

"And what might that be?" she asked. "Might it be the surprise?"

"It might be," he said, his eyes twinkling knowingly. "You'll have to wait and see."

Knowing she wouldn't get any more information out of him for the moment, she contented herself with beginning on her dessert. It really was delicious. Mrs. Carter made the best pies and pastries around. She ate all of it eagerly, and was just licking the chocolate from her fingers when John entered the room again. His eyes darkened at the action, and she popped her index finger out of her mind questioningly.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, and he moved forward to stand in front of her.

"Come with me," he said softly.

"Come where?"

He took hold of her hand – the chocolate covered one – and brought it to his lips. Her breath caught in her throat as he parted his lips and slipped her fingers inside his mouth, a groan rumbling in his throat as his tongue swept over her digits, removing every trace of chocolate. Anna's own eyes slid closed at the contact, and her temperature began to soar. Oh, God.

"Come with me," he said again, words muffled by her fingers, and she rose obediently, moving her spare hand to clutch at his shoulder as his arms moved around her waist. John slipped her fingers from his mouth then, and began to walk them backwards.

"Where are we going?" she asked him breathlessly.

"You know where we're going," he replied, and her insides jolted.

_To bed_.

At the bottom of the stairs, John turned Anna in his arms so that her back was pressed against his front. His hands moved to her stomach. She locked them against her with her own. Gently, he encouraged her to start walking up the stairs. She did so dazedly.

At the door to the bedroom, John paused them, dipping his head to kiss the back of her neck lingeringly.

"I love you," he murmured.

"I love you too," she echoed. "But I'm confused –"

He cut her off then by pushing open the bedroom door. Anna gasped.

The room was lit softly with candlelight. It flickered against the walls, sending shadows dancing. It looked intimate and romantic, and Anna shivered at the sight of it. And, strewn across the bed, were rose petals. The room looked beautiful.

Still, she turned in his arms, looking utterly confused.

"I don't understand what's going on," she said.

John let his thumb caress the skin just beneath her eye. "I was a fool yesterday."

"What?"

"It was true, what I said. I was terrified of making love to you because I was terrified of harming you or the baby. But then I realised today just how ridiculous I was being. Lady Mary provided a little helping hand."

"Lady Mary?"

John nodded. "She visited me this morning, and told me that you seemed unhappy. And the last thing that I want to do is make you unhappy. I've done that enough in the past."

"Don't you understand? You make me nothing but happy."

"But you weren't happy yesterday, don't try to deny it."

"I respected your choices. I would have accepted it."

"But it wasn't what you wanted."

"No," she admitted, "it wasn't. I wanted to make love to you. I _want_ to make love to you."

He lowered his head to her, barely brushing his lips against hers. "And we will. But_ I'll_ be the one making love to _you_."

"What's brought this on?"

"Something Lady Mary said to me."

"Oh? What was that?"

"She said that women need to feel special once in a while. Especially when they're pregnant."

Anna felt her cheeks heating. "Oh God, she really said that?"

"I'm afraid so. I hate to ask, but it's been niggling at me all day…does she know about…about yesterday?"

Anna shuffled, lowering her eyes. "Well, I never said it in explicit terms. But she guessed what the problem was."

John groaned, looking embarrassed. "Oh dear."

"Let's not dwell on that now," said Anna. "I liked where you were going when you were saying that women need to feel special every once in a while."

"Even if they were Lady Mary's words."

"Yes, but you've created a lovely, romantic evening for us. I like that."

"And it doesn't end here."

"What do you mean?"

Slowly, John moved his hands to the ties on his gown, gently easing it open. Anna's breath hitched in her throat as he succeeded, parting the material with the utmost care to reveal her nightgown underneath. With reverent hands, he began to slide the gown from her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground with a soft flump.

"I was a fool," he told her softly. "You get more beautiful by the day. I want to make love to you. You have no idea how much I want to. And it was incredibly stupid of me to push you away yesterday."

"You don't need to explain yourself."

"But I do. It was so unexpected; it caught me off guard. Before, you'd always been too tired or ill to want to make love, and I got used to it. And I convinced myself that I'd hurt you if we ever were to."

"You worry too much."

"I know. You're right. I worry about everything. Whether I'll be a good father –"

"– Which you clearly will be!"

"– Whether I'll be able to provide for you properly. There are a thousand other things that I worry about. But now I realise that none of them are as essential as making sure that you know that you're the most important thing in the world to me. You and the baby. And if there's anything that I can do to make you happy and make you feel special, then I'll do it."

The fervid desperation in his voice made her gasp, and she looked deep into his eyes. He didn't blink.

"I want you to feel special," he said.

"You know what I'd like."

He nodded slowly, letting his hands move to the shawl that she was still clutching tight to her. "I know."

"And you're sure that you really want it too?"

"I do, Anna. God knows I want it more than anything else in the world."

Convinced, she nodded, letting him close the short distance between them. However, the kiss he left against her mouth was brief, much too brief for her liking. She whined when he pulled away.

"Get into bed," he told her softly.

"Won't that spoil the pretty display of rose petals?"

"Well, we could go back downstairs and talk, if you'd prefer."

She knew that he was just being playful, but she still couldn't stop herself from grabbing onto his hands and pulling him closer.

"No," she breathed. "I wouldn't prefer that."

"Get into bed, then," he repeated quietly.

She let go of him reluctantly, moving to pull the bed sheets back. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she slipped between them, sighing at the warmth that immediately engulfed her. John must have used the bed warmer.

John waited until she was settled, then slowly began to strip himself of his shirt, throwing it to the floor. Anna watched interestedly as his undershirt was revealed, but he made no move to rid himself of that too. Instead, he moved onto his trousers, dropping them to the floor and stepping out of them. She held her breath for a moment, wondering if he would free himself of his shorts, but he didn't seem inclined to do that either, instead slipping into bed beside her and taking her into his arms.

"We meet again," he growled, and she giggled. The sound was soon smothered by the press of his lips against hers. This time, he kept them there, caressing hers softly, letting his tongue linger against her lip. She allowed him to part them, and his tongue slipped inside to greet hers. At that first contact between them, she whimpered loudly, moving both of her hands to his hair, pulling him as close as possible. Just like that, she was on fire. She needed him. Desperately.

He seemed to understand this, for he pulled away from her gently, peering into her eyes as she recovered from their kiss. She stared back fiercely, willing him to start moving.

Thankfully, he took note of her silent plea. She watched as he began to shift himself up. And up.

John came to a rest hovering above her, his eyes dark and earnest.

"What do you need, Anna?" he breathed. "Where do you need me to be?"

"There," she gasped softly, arching her hips up to come into contact with the delicious solidness of his body. "I need you to be right where you are. Hold me, just for the moment."

"Nothing would give me more pleasure," he said, moving down to engulf her fully into his arms. She sighed again at the feel of him against her, knowing that he was working hard to keep his weight off her, his chest warm and comforting against her, her stomach cradled gently between them.

"I love you," he told her, his eyes searching hers. "You know how much, don't you?"

"I know," she breathed. "But I think I'd like to be shown again."

His eyes darkened further at her words, and he bent down to capture her lips softly. She kissed him back just as delicately, enjoying the tender brush of his lips, his fingers dancing up her sides to capture her face.

"I think I can stretch to that," he told her almost inaudibly once they'd parted. "Now why don't you lie back?"

She sighed with contentment, doing exactly what she was told, and he sat himself back on his haunches, grimacing slightly as he bent his knee.

"Are you all right?" she asked him, concern at once filling her voice, but he brushed off her concerns with a careless shrug.

"I'm perfectly fine," he told her. "Just a little stiff. Don't worry about it. Just concentrate on yourself."

Slowly, he ran a hand up her clothed side, his fingertips brushing just barely at the sides of her breasts as they passed. He moved back over her on his knees. His lips descended softly on her jaw, blessing the skin there. It made her shiver in excitement to hear the soft smack of his mouth opening and closing over her skin.

And then he was moving to lie on his side beside her, and she opened her eyes at the loss of contact between their bodies.

"It's all right," he said. "Turn on your side too."

She shivered at his gentle command. Seeing her husband like that would always rouse her. He was a gentle man by nature, and she loved it when he used his gentleness in a more assertive manner, to help set her body alight with his soft commands. She did as she was told at once, moving to nestle herself further against him, the small swell of her stomach pressing against his. His eyes closed briefly at the feel of the life that they had helped to create being cradled between them, his hands moving to her shoulders. When he opened them again, there was a new fire burning within.

"You're beautiful," he told her. "There isn't a more beautiful woman anywhere else in the world."

"You charmer," she said for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, feeling her cheeks flood with heat.

He shook his head. "I mean it. And you're even more beautiful because you're carrying my child. Our child."

She pulled him closer, letting her lips answer him, not trusting herself to speak. His hand slid to the back of her head, cradling her there strongly, his fingers caressing just behind her ear. It made her shiver again, and she pulled away with a ragged exhalation.

"John," she sighed. "John."

"Yes, love," he said, moving closer. "I'm here for whatever you need."

"I need…" she fidgeted for a moment, casting her eyes down. She wasn't shy of asking for what she wanted. God knows John had helped her when he'd been released from prison, urging her to let him know exactly what she liked and what she didn't, not doing anything without her telling him if she wanted it. But she felt shyer now, her belly ballooning just slightly, her eyes dark, her mouth ravished.

"Tell me, Anna," he said gently. His hand snaked its way down her body, coming to a rest against the hem of her nightgown. "Is this what you want?"

She nodded desperately, shuddering gently as his fingers caressed the skin of her ankles, gently beginning to draw the nightgown up her body. He never took his eyes from hers as he pulled the material up passed her stomach, her breasts.

"Sit up," he said softly. "Just for a minute."

She did as she was asked at once, lifting her arms up above her head, and John drew the nightgown up, pulling it free from her arms, throwing it triumphantly to the floor. The undergarments soon followed. She flushed under his intense gaze. She was naked now.

"Beautiful," John breathed, moving a hand to cup the side of her face. "God, Anna."

She sighed when his lips gently hit the line of her jaw just below her ear, his fingers working at the tie that kept her braided hair in place. They were always so gentle and expert, unknotting it meticulously, unhurriedly. When at last it was completely free, he pulled away from her, moving to drop the tie on the bedside cabinet. And then his attention was back on her. Both of his hands moved to her hair, separating the strands from the helpless braid, combing through it gently. She sighed again when his fingers massaged her scalp, her eyes half-lidding at the sensation that rifled her body. John leant forward to catch her mouth with his as he worked, and she kissed him eagerly, letting her tongue find his with familiar ease. Even when her hair was completely free of its confines, he kept on going, running the strands between his fingers as though it was liquid gold, occasionally tugging on it gently and making her keen. The sensations playing across her scalp were incredible, but she wanted more.

Her fingers grasped desperately at his undershirt, and she used it as leverage to pull him away from her.

"What's wrong?" he asked her breathlessly, tucking strands behind her ears, his fingers sliding against her jaw.

She shuffled awkwardly closer to him, wanting to press the length of her body against him. Wordlessly, he knew what she needed.

"Lie back on your side," he said, and she did as she was asked, never taking her eyes from him.

He followed suite, lying close, their heads sharing the same pillow. He closed the gap between them. Anna deepened the kiss almost as soon as it had started, moving to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He let her, his own hands coming up to brush against the undersides of her breasts. She gasped, thrust them forward. He smiled against her mouth. The touch of his fingers became bolder, moving up and up, barely grazing her skin in that way that he knew she liked. When he finally reached her nipples, she keened gently, arching further into him. Her nipples were still soft, but John knew it wouldn't take much for that to change. Gently, he melded his mouth to the underside of her jaw, tracing lines down her throat while his fingers gently pinched at the pink buds, tugging on them a little in just the way that made her whimper.

"John," she moaned. Her hands continued to clutch at the material of his undershirt.

He kissed the hollow of her throat in answer, letting his thumb gently rotate her nipples in a circle. He could feel them beginning to change under his touch. It wouldn't take much more for them to bloom into hardened peaks. And he knew exactly what he needed to do to make that happen.

He began to shuffle himself further down the bed. Anna whined in protest, not liking the lack of contact with her throat – an area that was particularly sensitive for her – but was soon gasping again when she felt his mouth gently kiss the tops of her breasts in apology.

"Are you all right?" he murmured, raising his eyes to gauge her expression.

"Yes," she hissed, moving a trembling hand to his hair. "Oh God, John."

"I know," he soothed, kissing her just above her nipple. "Just relax."

Relax? How was she supposed to relax when he had his head where he did? Shivering in anticipation, she tangled her fingers in his hair, gasping a little when she felt his warm breath hitting the bud of her left nipple.

And then she cried out when he slid his mouth fully over it.

John couldn't help but groan too when he felt that warm bud between his lips. It tasted absolutely divine. Urgently, he laved his tongue across it, feeling the slight, delicate hardness that was just beginning to take hold of it.

Jolts of pleasure seared through Anna's body at the feel of her husband's tongue moving across her nipple over and over again. She moaned loudly, her hands pushing him more firmly against her. He smiled, the curve of his lips sending more exquisite jolts tingling down her spine, and moved his tongue more insistently. Anna moaned at the sensation.

Gently, John pulled away from her, popping her nipple out of his mouth. She whimpered again at the feel of how wet he had made it, and when he replaced his mouth was his fingers, massaging in that same wetness, she threw her head back against the pillow, pushing him urgently against her. John didn't seem intent on stopping, moving on to repeat the action with her other nipple.

"Got to give every inch of you the same attention, haven't I?" he said hoarsely, kissing the bud gently.

"Oh, yes," she sighed, turning slightly to give him better access.

He took the breast in the palm of his hand, squeezing it gently, pushing it up higher so that he could suck her nipple into his mouth more easily. His teeth bit gently into the ridge and she cried out, feeling more wetness drench her thighs. Her muscles were beginning to flutter in that tell-tale way that meant that she was ready to be touched properly. His teeth were still gripping her nipple tightly between them, and he pulled his head forward slightly, bringing it with him.

"God," she cried, feeling the heat pool in her stomach.

John pulled away at her exclamation.

"John, come up here," she pleaded, snaking her hands down to stroke through his hair. "I want to hold you."

"If that's what you want, then I'm more than happy to oblige," he said, slowly slipping himself from her body so that he could flop onto his side next to her again.

She followed him at once, rolling over to face him once more, moving to lock her arms around his back.

"I love you," she said fiercely, moving to nuzzle under his chin.

"I know," he reassured her. "I love you too." His own arms came up to rest against her naked backside.

He was pressed deliciously along the whole length of her body. She could feel the breadth of his clothed chest against hers, feel the strength in his legs and the heated hardness pressing just below her hip. She imagined what it would be like to feel him properly again, imagined the exaltation playing out across his face as he moved within her.

And, just like that, her body was yearning for his.

"Would it seem terribly wanton if I said that I would like you to continue?" she asked him.

He smirked at her. "I doubt it. It's never stopped you from demanding it before."

"You cheeky beggar," she said. "I'm a pregnant woman now, I'll have you know. You need to start treating me like a lady."

"You need to start acting like a lady," he shot back impishly, and she opened her mouth in mock indignation, before descending into a hysterical bout of giggling.

John grinned, his heart warming at the sight of his wife so happy, and trailed his fingers up her spine lethargically, moving to cup the back of her neck.

"Come here," he growled, bringing her mouth towards his.

She hummed happily in the back of her throat when their mouths met, letting her tongue stroke coyly against his bottom lip. He opened wide, granting her entrance, and she clamped her arms more tightly around him, drawing herself as close as possible, wanting to lose herself in his taste. She could taste herself on his tongue, and felt a frisson of heat strike her low down, unbidden; she was suddenly very aware of her state of undress compared to her husband's. Frantically, she pulled away from him.

"What is it?" he asked her at once as she struggled to sit up. His tone was laced with confusion.

Her hands moved to the bottom of his undershirt of their own accord, beginning to tug it up with no finesse at all.

"Get this off," she muttered desperately. "John, get rid of it now."

"As you wish," he murmured, sitting up too, moving to yank the shirt over his head.

Anna's breath caught in her throat as she watched him throw it to the floor. Momentarily, she was speechless. John's upper body was glowing in the dim candlelight, and she felt as if she was drowning in the sight of him. The broad, strong chest, covered so generously with those thick, coarse hairs. The slight bulge of his muscles. The paleness of his skin. The scars that criss-crossed over him, badges of his time in prison. John wasn't the fittest man around. But he _was_ a man, a delicious, _real_ man. Anna's blood would never fail to heat at the sight of him, naked and devoted.

But he wasn't quite naked yet.

Anna's hands snaked down to his shorts, intending to slip beneath them and feel the heated hardness that she knew was there, but John caught hold of her wrist. Surprised, she glanced up into his eyes.

"Not yet," he breathed, tucking several strands of her hair behind her ear.

She nodded her acknowledgement, then allowed him to lean forward and take possession of her mouth again. Her hands moved to travel over the broad expanse of skin that had been revealed to her, her fingers winding their way through his chest hair. She gasped when he pulled away enough to nibble at her lip, his own fingers twining their way into her hair.

"What do you want?" he asked her, moving to press a soft kiss against her nose. "Tell me, Anna, and it's yours."

"I just want you," she breathed. "Just you, John. Please, make love to me. I need you."

Those final eight words had his blood boiling dramatically, and he groaned breathlessly, moving to capture her mouth again. She let him, enjoying the feel of his warm mouth, of his tongue caressing hers, of his fingers so tight in her hair. Slowly, he urged her back down amongst the bed sheets, immersing them both in them, moving his attentions to her neck and the sensitive spot beneath her ear alternatively, murmuring his love for her, his fingers moving to his shorts to finally begin to slide them down. Anna moved eagerly to help him, letting her hands graze across the pulsing rigidity as John continued to push them down.

"You little minx," he groaned at her as he frantically shook them from his feet, blindly leaving them to knot in their bed sheets. "How am I supposed to concentrate when you're doing that?"

"I always thought you were good at concentrating on more than one thing at once," she said musingly, not letting her hand stop what it was doing.

He grunted, moving his head to capture her mouth again, speaking between staccato kisses. "Yes, well, _that_ was before I discovered that you have faery hands."

"Faery hands?" she giggled. "I've not been accused of that before."

"There's a first time for everything," he growled, then let his own hand drift lower. "And two can play at your game, my love."

She found herself groaning as his hand danced between her thighs, moving his fingers in long, confident strokes. Oh God, he was right. And he was smirking at her in that deliciously arousing way of his. She couldn't stop herself from pushing up against him, desperate to garner more contact. Her lower half was beginning to palpitate. John's breath was harsh and hot against her face as she worked him feverishly, her palm sliding up and down his length.

"Christ, Anna," he groaned. "You're going to have to stop that soon. Otherwise, I'm afraid I won't be lasting much longer at all."

She stopped at once.

"We can't have that," she said. "I want you to make love to me."

"So it's very wise that you let me have a few moments to recover."

The pace of his own fingers over her had slowed; she kissed his jaw softly as she waited. When she felt his hands sliding back up her back, she pulled away from him, waiting to see what he'd do next.

Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers, fingers kneading the knots in her shoulder blades.

"First, I must make sure that this is what you want," he said softly. "The last thing I want to do is force you into something that you're not ready for."

She reached around her back to catch one of his hands, bringing it between them.

"I do want this," she reassured him. "Of course I do. I've dreamt of nothing else for days."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Days?"

She nodded, suddenly shy. "Days. I've been feeling so hot and bothered all of the time."

It was incredible, that she could desire him so acutely. Reverently, he moved closer to her, bringing their joined hands to his lips.

"Then how do you want to do this?" he asked her softly. "I don't want to hurt you."

She thought about taking charge and rising above him. She'd be able to take control of how deep he was allowed, and it would ensure that no pressure would be put on her stomach. But then she thought of another idea. Something they hadn't really tried before, just once or twice. It was new enough to be refreshing and exciting, and it would still be safe enough to ensure that John wouldn't need to worry about hurting either her or the baby.

"I want to do it like this," she breathed, fidgeting on her side and drawing him to her. She hooked her leg up over his when he was near enough.

Understanding dawned on John's face, and he moved to pull her even closer. Her breasts pressed intimately against his wiry chest hair, sending incredible sensations careening through her body. It was beautiful, and it was intimate. He was careful to not press himself too forcefully against her. The slight bulge in her stomach was cradled protectively between them, a solid symbol of what was to come in the future.

For a few moments, they allowed themselves to grow accustomed to the position they were in, staring deep into each other's eyes. And then, by mutual consent, they leaned forward again, mouths learning and tasting as John slowly pulled Anna's leg more firmly over him, raising his hips and guiding himself into her, working himself in slowly. She hissed. He stopped at once.

"Is that all right?" he asked her urgently. "I'm not hurting you, am I? I can stop if you need me to."

She shook her head quickly. "No, you're not hurting me. It feels wonderful."

He had to agree with her there. It had been several long months since he had last been inside Anna like this, feeling her tight, wet heat around him, feeling the pleasure building in his veins as he held her closely in his arms. Her own hand – the one that wasn't still clutched in his – was splayed across his heart, counting every rapid beat beneath her palm. Her blue eyes were dark with desire.

"Please, continue," she murmured, pushing her hips forward slightly.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes, I am. Believe me."

He nodded, shifting his own hips. The breath snagged in her throat as they found an easy rhythm. It was shallow and didn't fill Anna the way that she was used to but, lying there, able to watch the emotions playing across her husband's face, more than made up for the lack of depth that could be achieved. Her legs locked around him desperately, bringing him as close as she possibly could. His right hand was pressed against the ridge in her spine, soothing and firm. He didn't seem inclined to release his hold on her hand.

Anna was whimpering despite herself. Although John wasn't filling her as deliciously as usual, he was still stretching her open, making her feel full and fulfilled. With her leg hooked over his, she was able to draw him as close as she possibly could. It felt wonderful, to have him cradled between her legs in such a way, feeling his solid presence all around her.

John tore his eyes away from Anna's, which had just begun to lid, her mouth opening noiselessly, and moved his attentions to her collarbone. It was a little uncomfortable, trying to stretch his head much lower than that, but he knew that her collarbone was sensitive enough anyway. His teeth gently scraped against the area, and he used his tongue to flick against it over and over as she shuddered. Her fingernails dug into the skin of his backside. He felt a thrill of heated desire at having her hand so low on his body. It was sparking round to his front, making him pulse inside her. She moaned.

"I know I say it quite often," he muttered to her, sliding his mouth to the base of her throat and muffling his words against her skin, "but I do hope you know that you're incredibly beautiful."

"I'm a simple servant," she murmured, breath hitching as his tongue traced a line up to her jaw. "There are plenty of those around."

He shook his head fiercely, pushing his hips up more pronouncedly, making her moan. "No, you're wrong. You're one of a kind. There's no one else in the whole world quite like you."

"Flatterer," she tried to tease, her head falling forward to rest against the top of his as he nibbled just lightly at her throat, making it freckle with heat.

He lifted his head, never stopping the rhythm of his hips, his eyes burning into hers.

"I'm not saying it to be flattering," he said hoarsely, moving forward to capture the corner of her mouth just lightly. "I'm saying it because it's the truth. There's no one else in the whole world like you. And every day I wake up in awe of the fact that you could choose to share your life with me, when you could have anyone that you wanted."

"I just want you," she moaned, moving forward to give him the invitation to take her mouth again.

He ignored her in favour of letting his mouth stray over the rest of her features. "You're the most special woman in the whole world." A feather-light kiss against her cheeks. "You deserve to be treated like a goddess." A brush of his lips against the sweet spot below her ear, which she gasped and arched at. "I'm not worthy to stand before you, let alone share your life." A kiss against her nose, seeing it wrinkle in protest to his words. "But I promise you that I will strive to keep you and our baby safe for the rest of my life." Delicate presses over and over against her closed eyelids. "I love you, Anna." She was drowning in his kisses. "I love you so much." Now he was kissing her properly, his mouth seemingly everywhere over hers, overwhelming her completely.

She could do nothing but clutch desperately at him, fingernails digging deeper, making him twitch harder than ever inside her. It felt incredible.

"John," she whimpered when he parted from her for a brief moment to suck in a long draught of air, "John."

"I'm here," he reassured her, rolling his hips gently against hers. "I'll always be here, my darling."

His hand slid from her spine, down over her hips, splaying over her thigh. His touch was burning her. It was the most exquisite burning of her life. Desperately, she pushed herself closer. She needed to feel all of him against her. Her mind was beginning to fuzz at the corners. She was coming apart, not completely aware of her body any longer. Only the pleasure existed. The feel of her husband moving shallowly inside her, sending sensations shooting up from the pit of her stomach. Her head fell forward again, a whimper ripping itself from her throat as she felt the warning waves.

"John, please," she choked. "I'm nearly – you've got to –"

"I know," he soothed, his own voice catching. "Let me –"

She keened like a cat when his hand slipped from her thigh to search for that nub while they remained so deliciously locked together. Her head flew back when he found it, and he gently started a new rhythm there, letting his index finger move in a lazy, circular motion while the rest of his hand pressed gently against the underside of her stomach.

"You're the strongest woman that I've ever met," he continued softly, feeling her tremble in his arms. "Your strength of character, your faith in me, the way you keep yourself so firm, all of it amazes me. I find myself looking at you in quiet moments, and my breath is always taken away when I remember how wonderful you were during my prison sentence. How you never wavered, not even for a moment."

"I believed in you," she whispered. "I _believe_ in you."

"You were the reason I could keep going in prison," he told her, feeling her thighs beginning to ripple now. "Without you, I would have been nothing."

The thrust of Anna's own hips in answer to his was beginning to become more erratic. Pleasure coursed through his own veins at her jerkiness. He was beginning to burn up. Sweat beaded at his temples, over the rest of his body. It was beginning to drench the both of them.

She could barely breathe. It felt so good, weighing down like a blanket over every single inch of her body.

"You're the most wonderful person I've ever come across," John was saying, though she was barely hearing him now, becoming a slave to the pleasure warping her body. "Your kindness, your desire to do whatever you think needs to be done, your dedication to helping others…it's incredible." He unconsciously began to pick up the pace of his fingers, knowing that it wouldn't be long at all before he was driving her to the edge of her mind. He raised their joined hands to his mouth again, kissing the protruding joints in her curled fingers.

Anna could feel her end bubbling just on the edges of her person. It was there, scratching at her just slightly, making her yearn for it to be over, for her need to be sated completely. Her hips pushed desperately, longing for more contact between them, to feel him as deep inside her as possible. But that wasn't imaginable, not now. She would have to make do with the powerful pleasure that his fingers were bringing her.

"And your body," John continued hoarsely, letting his dark eyes roam unashamedly over her being. "It's perfect. I know you have your complaints about it. But I wouldn't want you any other way." Their clasped hands began to move. John was careful to let them rub over her nipples as he guided them. "Your breasts are just big enough to fit in the palms of my hands. I can give as much attention to them as I want, and it's perfect."

She whimpered at the feel of her fingers touching her nipples, feeling the hardened, dimpled peaks beneath her softness, a direct contrast to John's calloused fingertips and his rough knuckles.

"I love how you fit perfectly against the length of me," he growled. "As if you were _made_ to lie by my side. I love how your hands fit so wonderfully in mine. I love every single inch of you."

She was shaking in earnest now, her head falling against his shoulder, her mouth open and wet as she groaned and whimpered against his skin. John splayed their joined hands directly over her stomach, which trembled under the unexpected touch.

"And I have no doubt that one day soon you're going to be the best mother around," he said. "The day you become the mother of our child will be the proudest day of my entire life."

"John," she whimpered, and he kept their joined hands firmly over the life that they had created between them.

Harsh pants rent the air in two as she sank her teeth into his shoulder and keened, breath shaky and fast. His own pants for breath joined hers, mingling together on the sweat-soaked air. Heated pleasure crashed through his body, making him quiver and grunt. He could feel it all building to a mind-blowing crescendo within his body. His spine tingled with heat. His toes were curling. He couldn't finish before Anna.

Urgently, he began to move his fingers were more speed, pressing his cheek insistently against the crown of her head. He could feel her trembling. She had to be close.

She was. Sparks of pleasure spiralled up from that tiny spot in her body, making her jerk and hiss as she tried to keep herself composed. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, concentrating on the sensations playing out across her body.

And then she could feel it. The unstoppable wave that welled up inside her, exploding in her every nerve. A scream clawed its way up from her throat, but she muffled it with the fierce clamp of her teeth against the curve of his shoulder. John's fingers spasmed uselessly against her. She felt the rush of heat. She heard his groan, unmasked in the hot air, two unintelligible syllables that she took to be her name.

In the aftermath, there was nothing but the sounds of unsteady breath and the trembling of overheated limbs. Anna couldn't bear the thought of lifting her head from her husband's shoulder, so she kept it nestled into the crook of his neck, her eyes still firmly closed, breathing in the scent of his sweat as she panted for breath. John had listlessly slid the hand from the top of her sex down her body, and she whimpered and shook with disapproval as she lost the intimate contact with him. However, he was still buried within her, and she whined urgently when she felt him beginning to move away.

"What is it?" he asked her earnestly at once.

"Don't move," she beseeched him. "Not yet."

He nodded his acquiescence, burying his own nose in the sweaty locks of her hair, moving his hand around to press her as close to him as was humanely possible. Her own hand went around his back to mirror his action. They both kept their joined hands pressed over her abdomen.

At long last, Anna found the energy to lift her head. John's eyes were on her at once, trying to gauge how she was feeling.

"I love you," she said, and it was all he needed to hear in reassurance.

Gently, she moved her head down to his, capturing his mouth softly, letting her tongue stroke against his lower lip as he opened his mouth wide for her. After a few moments, she pulled away from him, sinking back down into his embrace. He held her tightly, never wanting to let go.

"That was wonderful," she said at last, and he saw the pink hue staining her cheeks. "Thank you, John."

"You deserve it," he told her. "You deserve the world."

"I only want you. I only want to know that everything's going to turn out fine for us. And it is."

Their legs were still tangled. It felt wonderful. Slowly, John swept his hand up and down the curve of her back, watching as her eyes closed in contentment. He stroked his fingers soothingly over hers on her stomach. "We're always going to be all right now. I know it."

She caught his hand properly, pressing her palm flat against his. "And those things you said to me, while we were making love…"

"Every word was true," he said. "And when we finally get to meet our baby, I promise that I will do everything in my power to be worthy of the both of you."

"Don't you see that you already are?" she said softly. "The way that you treat me…I never dreamed that I'd find a man like you, John Bates."

"You deserve to be treated like a queen," he said.

"I don't want to be treated like a queen. Just like Anna Bates, lady's maid."

He smiled at her words, moving to kiss her again. It felt wonderful, to still be joined intimately with her. Her fingers were working wonders against the muscles in his back. When they parted, she shifted slightly so that she could rest her head over his chest.

"I can feel your heart beating," she said sleepily.

He chuckled. "I should hope so."

"It's going very fast."

"That's because you're pressed against me."

"Will we be doing this again soon?"

He chuckled. The sound vibrated in his chest. "If you want to, we will. I live to serve you, milady."

"Good. I've heard that women get more hot and bothered than ever during this stage in pregnancy."

"If it gives me the opportunity to run my hands along you, then I am more than happy to do it."

"And yet just yesterday you were adamant that we wouldn't make love for a year. A whole year."

He groaned, kneading her hip gently. "Must you keep reminding me of my utter foolishness?"

"I must, if it'll stop you from being foolish again."

He chuckled in reply.

Silence for a moment. She burrowed her head further against him, her breath ruffling his chest hair. He thought that she was getting ready to doze in the afterglow. Her eyes were closed. She looked so peaceful.

But then she spoke again. She kept her eyes closed, squeezing the joined fingers on her stomach. "Tonight made me feel special. Thank you."

"There's no need at all to thank me," he said at once. You're my wife. I want you to feel special."

"You're a wonderful husband. And one day soon, you're going to be a wonderful father. Never doubt that, John. I don't. Not even for one second."

Touched, he kissed her sweat-soaked temple, marvelling at how even now, Anna had the power to make him feel better about himself. It was amazing, that she could reassure him so easily, that simply looking at the conviction in her eyes was enough to make him believe in himself, too.

Anna Bates was one very special woman indeed.

* * *

**A/N:** I'll be disappearing now until May. Real Life dictates that I must. :(


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